A Beautiful Mind
by dawnkiwi
Summary: 'Prodigious clarity conceived': Tony Stark is the most enlightened mind of this existence. Like an elastic band, his mind expands to encompass all knowledge he comes across. Bands snap.
1. Chapter 1

**A Beautiful Mind - Avengers fanfiction | Iron Man / Tony Stark-centric | #1 in the Wretched Adrenaline series  
**

 **Summary : 'Prodigious clarity conceived', Tony Stark is the most enlightened mind of this existence. Like an elastic band, his mind expands to encompass all knowledge he comes across. Bands snap.  
Featuring: Tony Stark x Pepper Potts  
Steve Rogers  
Thor Odinson  
**

 **Genres : Drama/Family**

 **Word Count : 2,500  
Chapters: 01/05  
Status: Finished prior to publishing**

 **Trigger warnings : Allusion to schizophrenia / mentions and explorations of mental illness / familial abuse and trauma / mentions of sexual activity**

* * *

 **Prelude - Mad World**

In the span of 40 years, Anthony Edward Stark had accomplished more than some civilisations could in the span of a hundred.

As the Merchant of Death, he carries the honours of being both a creator and a destroyer.

His true passion, however, remains entirely separate from his peace-shattering works of art.

Hidden from greedy eyes and safely sequestered more than a hundred feet below the streets of Manhattan, Tony sat hunched over a gleaming metal desk. In his hands, he twisted and tinkered with one of his numerous homemade 'toys'. A nifty little scanner he'd managed to construct from the properties of that damned sceptre.

It glowed an ominous blue when activated, and served to create a holographic interface of whatever he aimed it at.

Pepper's bitter denouncement stemmed from Tony's obsessive need to spend as much waking time as possible in his lab. Strewn across the concrete floor were bits of metal and wiring; numerous unrecognisable pieces of machinery. A reminder of the neglect Pepper faced..

His latest fixation happened to be the laws of physics, gravity, and time. Far from his usual technology, Tony had a burning need to understand the more abstract elements of science. It consumed him like a disease.

Pepper believed Tony had become jealous of Jane. Jane believed Tony was rightly curious, and perhaps justly terrified of what the universe held. Steve Rogers had given his two cents and informed Pepper than the prodigal Avenger was likely suffering from an acute case of PTSD.

He was feeling challenged. A strange sensation to a man who had rarely ever felt intellectually stumped.

Glinting like a slice of opal sky, the shard discarded upon the desk stared him in the face. It haunted him.

"What are you made of.." Tony muttered to himself. JARVIS had kindly informed him that the remains he had swiped from the shaken streets of NYC did not match any known material on earth. It seemed the strange material was entirely from another world. Even his new prized scanner could tell him nothing of value.

 _How fitting,_ he thought, _for the remains of the chitauri to be completely isolated from man's known elements._

"Bring up the carcases again," he said, swivelling around to face the floating holograms behind him.

Scenes from the Chitauri attack flitted across each projected screen. They zoomed in and stilled to focused on the slain behemoths. Any and all CCTV of New York had been scrupulously downloaded and hoarded on servers hidden around the world. To Tony, while his mind functioned in near eidetic capacity, knowing what he had experienced had been seen by the rest of the world served to ground him, and keep him sane.

Forty tonnes of celestial monster lay prone and cooling aside Central Park. They were so beautiful, Tony often thought, but beautiful in the sense of untold horrors.

Tony loved his Lovecraft.

When the time had come for the monumental cleanup, Tony had done his part and donated a nine-figure sum to hush up the moaning politicians and appease the very front end of the public outrage which continued to pour, more than two years on. A part of that sum, however, included Stark Industries _personally_ cleaning up the mess. Housed in a remote New Mexico bunker, the corpses were cryogenically frozen for Tony's personal research.

It was poetically humorous, in his opinion, for the remnants of the Chitauri to be stored in the home state of all things weird. He could have gone with Nevada, but the CIA were still impolitely hostile to him, so he hadn't bothered. It was also fairly apt, considering New Mexico seemed to be Heimdall's favourite drop-zone.

 _Not to mention my tower,_ he thought irritably.

Tony still wanted to see Asgard.

On his holographic screen, the body which splayed itself like a bludgeoned pineaaple gave him no more insight than he already had.

"Just what are your secrets, puppy-dog," he sang to himself in an ill attempt to stifle his growing irritation.

With a sigh, he stood up and stomped over to his kitchenette for more coffee.

The microwave blinked a neon **6:44 AM** at him. Nearly time for breakfast. The coffee maker clicked on, it's whirring tearing apart the silence.

These past few months hadn't been kind to him. According to Pepper, rather. In Tony's mind, the last few months had been some of the most enlightening. Ignoring his reoccurring nightmares, in which beasts of incalculable size and strength dominated his mind; in which his fears of losing his precious Pepper, and in which the gaping void stared unshakably at him. He loathed it. But in many ways, Tony longed for the terrible dreams. They powered him forward like a ravenous wolf, always seeking the answers to questions previously unthought of.

He loathed it.

But in many ways, Tony longed for the terrible dreams. They powered him forward like a ravenous wolf, always seeking the answers to questions previously unthought of. It was like searching for air in the Mariana Trench.

When he had fallen from the sky, the only thing on his mind was Virginia Potts. He would never see her again. He would never be able to tell her he loved her. They would never have a family. All the unspoken words and missed moments. Gone.

Dead.

And then to wake up on the cold ground with the Hulk's giant gnashers roaring in his face... it had been the single most defining moment of his life. Afghanistan had changed him many ways. Most of them subtle. Tony couldn't be handed things; he couldn't take a bath or step into a pool. The ocean sparked a dread in him he hadn't previously known, and the desert was like a nightmare of desolation and heart-stopping agony.

But that void.

It haunted him, it taunted him; it fucking broke him in two, then moulded him back like a mended shirt, _only to be torn again_. It never ended.

In his dreams, the void did not move. There was no sound. There was no light. Nothing but that singular, gaping hole in the sky that served to remind humanity how insignificant they all were.

He would wake gasping for breath in a silent scream, trying his hardest to make any noise he could. But in space no one can hear you scream.

He had known this already, of course; that humanity existed akin to a pimple ready to rupture.

To be a man who makes death weapons is one thing, and carrying a legacy like the _Manhattan Project_ is a weight that comes with the gift of money. But with a heart that only beats due to a battery he had personally engineered... even if it is a world-changing innovation.. life is very fragile, indeed. Pepper's own fragile form bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Pure horror can act as energy. Like lightening, he mused, much like Heimdall and Thor, and even Loki's abilities which defied known science. It strikes when you least expect it. It surges like a violent bolt of love; passion and frenzy. The outcome never matching love, but exceeding it, like the death of loved one.

"Your coffee is ready, sir." JARVIS broke through Tony's tormented thoughts. Absently, he had begun to grip his mug so tightly he had nearly shattered it.

 _Just like me._

Pouring the obsidian liquid into his mug, he stood quietly, questioning if he should emerge from his lab and eat.

Logic won him over, and he stepped into his elevator.

* * *

In the communal kitchen, Steve Rogers stood preparing a delicious breakfast. The scent made Tony's mouth water.

"Capsical," Tony proclaimed, throwing himself onto a leather stool, "What are you making me?"

Steve shot him a bemused look. "Pancakes, with bacon and eggs. How many do you want?"

Tony hummed. "Better make it three. I'm trying to preserve my figure, you know."

Steve rolled his eyes but dumped the requested number of pancakes onto a plate for him.

It had taken them a long time to get to speaking terms. In fact, they didn't do much 'speaking' outside of forced interactions, or the occasional glib remark. But every now and then, one of them would try to be nice, and it made all the difference to those around them. Even if they were patronising each other, it was a world better than the snide and often callous remarks aimed at each other. Few days went past when any of them did not find themselves lost in thought of their tense interactions near the sceptre.

Loki's legacy lived on.

Feasting upon the admittedly perfect pancakes, neither man spoke until Vision stepped into the kitchen.

Steve gave his usual polite greetings, whereas Tony had to be Tony.

"Hey, JARVIS one."

"Hello, Tony."

It bothered him. That his beloved AI technically lived on a man- was he really a man?- but had assumed total sentience. It freaked him out, if he was honest. At first, it had hurt; he had, all things considered, birthed the most advanced AI known, and once said AI had become self-aware, he had fixated on Wanda like Tony fixated on the Chitauri.

Of course, Tony didn't hold it against him. Whatever had occurred between the two, for he didn't really know, they had formed a bond. They doted on one another, Vision more so than Wanda, like Pepper longed for Tony to do. They cared for each other, and functioned as any healthy couple should.

So Tony had spent weeks holed up in his lab, refusing to leave once, and recreated JARVIS. JARVIS II technically. The new JARVIS could do everything the original had. But in his fearful mania, Tony had installed and formed new abilities. It meant that if Tony was ever mortally wounded, JARVIS could take care of him. JARVIS is his friend, his confident, his doctor, and his therapist.

Pepper hated it. She had originally broken up with him when she didn't see Tony for nearly a month.

He hadn't intended for that to happen. But when he had gone down there, the fear had taken hold of him and driven him to better what he already had. JARVIS, his bots, his suits, his cars. Everything he had at his disposal had been upgraded, reinvented, and re-engineered to answer only to him.

He would never be able to rely on another person. Despite his self-assurance that he didn't hate Vision, he still resented the abandonment which plagued him.

It was irrational and childish, but Tony couldn't rid himself of the feelings.

Tony hadn't slept for weeks. A personal record, as far as he was concerned, but a serious health issue. Soon after he began the mammoth task of rehauling his creations, the delirium had set in. The hallucinations. His code swam off the screens and danced like a puppet, refusing to do as he commanded. Every time he began to focus, the shadows of his lab had leered at him, taking the form of the Chitauri, or Loki, and even Ultron.

Naturally the only answer was to install lighting in every corner, and have the room lit up like the face of the sun.

After twenty four days, Pepper had stormed into his lab, smashed his Starkpad, and dragged him out onto the streets of Manhattan.

 _"Look at what you're doing to yourself," she had screamed, uncaring for the eyes which devoured this controversial argument._

 _He had tried to defend himself but resorted to begging and pleading._

 _"Pep, come on, I'm sorry. I just.. I lost track of the time. I didn't know where I was, or even_ who _I was."_

 _Pepper had not been placated. "Then you need help, Tony," she had spat, "I'll call Lizbeth right now. You are going to end up_ dead _at this rate."_

They had made the headlines in every major publication and gossip rag, going as far as featuring at the bottom of the NYTimes front page. It had been embarrassing, sure, and that itself had been enough to make Tony snap out of it.

 _"I swear to god, Tony, if you don't stop this insanity, we are over."_

 _"Pepper!" He had been verging on shouting at this point. "That isn't fair."_

 _She had seemed so tall and powerful in that moment. It made him want to shy away, and curl into himself. To run back to JARVIS and lock everyone out. Knowing he had been so erroneous as to leave his lab unlocked shook him to the core. Another potentially fatal mistake._

 _Pepper shook her head, hiding her tears behind her fringe. "We're over Tony. Go get help, and get yourself back to some level of sanity. But until then, don't contact me."_

She had left him standing on the street. Tony didn't remember much after that, only that he had collapsed defeated on his couch. Another week of absence went by before he could muster the courage to step out of his lab. Only Virginia Potts could force a man like Tony Stark to do something he didn't want to.

"Are you alright, Tony?"

Steve's baritone wrenched Tony back to the present and away from the awful memories.

He placed a megawatt smile on his face and winked at Steve. "Right as rain, scouts honor."

* * *

The door slid shut behind Tony. Steve shook his head with a sigh.

"He really needs to talk to someone," he said.

Vision concurred. "Tony does appear to be in ill health. Perhaps we should contact Ms Potts?"

Steve shook his head again. "That will only drive Stark further into himself. He won't talk about whatever is bothering him. You know him and Ms Potts broke up?"

Vision did not know these. "I was under the impression they are still in a relationship."

"They are," Steve said, "But a few months ago Pepper left him. She wouldn't say much, just that Tony was too much to handle."

Vision mused over Steve's words for a few minutes, leaving the Captain to his thoughts. Steve had considered getting Sam to talk to Tony. His fellow Avenger is, after all, trained in dealing with PTSD. But regardless of whoever approached Tony, the result would only be more isolation, and likely a lingering sentiment of betrayal.

While Steve didn't care all that much for Ironman, he still believed in an ingrained sense of camaradery.

Something had to be done for Tony, for better or for worse.

* * *

 **This is the first chapter of five. I'll upload the next one either tomorrow or the day after. The story is finished, so you don't have to worry about me abandoning this fic. If you enjoyed this, consider checking out my parallel story 'Fortune of A Broken Man' which is set a few months after the end of this story. Neither of these stories need to be read to understand the other.  
**

 **FoABM is a James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes (the Winter Soldier) centric fic, featuring Steve Rogers, my OC Lizbeth Barnes, Darcy Lewis, Dr Selvig, and Loki.**

 **Have a nice day y'aaaaall.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A Beautiful Mind - Avengers fanfiction | Iron Man / Tony Stark-centric | #1 in the Wretched Adrenaline series**

 **Summary: 'Prodigious clarity conceived', Tony Stark is the most enlightened mind of this existence. Like an elastic band, his mind expands to encompass all knowledge he comes across. Bands snap.**

 **Genres: Drama/Sci-fi**

 **Word Count: 2,200**  
 **Chapters: 02/05**  
 **Status: Finished prior to publishing**

 **Trigger warnings: Allusion to schizophrenia / mentions and explorations of mental illness + suicide / familial abuse and trauma / mentions of sexual activity**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Gods**

It had been days now. Thousands of minutes in which he had hidden himself from the world and all interaction, with only the precious indulgence of the most artificial mind- his own creation, and thus the safest option, as Tony innately knew that only he and that which he could completely dictate could be trusted.

Days since Tony had found the courage to face them.

He had suspected when he ventured upstairs- to his own kitchen- that it wouldn't go well, but the need for food had won out. And inevitably he had been humiliated. Perhaps they didn't see it that way. In fact, for all Tony knew, neither Steve nor Vision had picked up on how 'out of it' he had been. But the days taken their toll and his sleep deprivation had culminated in one of those dreaded flashbacks.

At least this time it had not been of Afghanistan.

"JARV, can you copy this template and store it on my private server, please."

His lab was washed in a soft natural lighting, creating a calming atmosphere. Controlled chaos reigned in his most precious space; his modus operandi flowed in a maze of questionable ideas. Each time he was struck with another moment of euphoria, it had to be jotted down by hand and plastered up in a string-board flow chart that coated every surface and space available.

Tony worked like a madman, never entirely still. His hands shook and his eyes wavered. Almost wordlessly he spoke to himself, reciting formulas, theories, and mashing the very fringes of theoretical science together in a corroded version of logic.

"Of course, sir."

He snapped his fingers, twirling around to snatch up another hot cup of liquid energy. $60 a cup. Because he's Tony fucking Stark.

"Sir, the synthesized element is now complete."

Tony let out a shaky breath. "Bring her up, JARV."

His beloved AI did as requested and the newly synthesized component emerged like an infant Jesus, or Simba. The steaming mist rose up, slowly evaporating into the air ducts. The theatrics of it all did nothing but exacerbate his irregular heart beat and warm his hands with nervous perspiration.

"Perfect," he murmured, gingerly plucking it from its perch. His latest attempt at recreating one of the many Chitauri 'elements'. Once he'd come to terms with whatever materials the Hoard consisted of essentially being out-of-this-world, he'd set about making his own. PTSD prevented him- no, reminded him of why space travel is a bad thing- a terrible, most dreaded, and utterly anti-human endeavor- so the safest option he had was to simply create it all.

He'd done more difficult tasks before. Like in caves, with a car battery wired into his chest.

Tony repressed a shiver but was unable to stop the frown which settled upon his face like scar tissue. Even during his most poignant moments, the repressive and plagueish feeling gnawed at him, chewing him to pieces and scattering his sanity like dollar bills from a blimp.

His new element glinted in the soft lighting. Iridescent like a polished pearl, it held his hopes, his fears, and his obsessions.

Snatching up his scanner, he let the holographic wave flow across it before processing the data.

Tony stood quietly with shaking hands, lost in the swirling mist of his coffee.

"The element does not match, sir."

Tony cursed, nearly throwing his cup against the wall. Instead he discarded it behind him, unaware of the blistering liquid splashing his bare feet. In a rare moment of ill-restraint, Tony let out a frustrated scream, sweeping his arm across his desk and sending it's contents scattering across the polished floor. Glass shattered and sprayed him with thin, nearly invisible cuts. His chest heaved, pumping out gutturally anguished grunts.

"Sir?"

" _Does any of it match_?" Tony screamed into his hands, fisting his hair into painfully tight clumps.

His shaking increased with his shoulders hunching and tensing more as he waited for JARVIS to calculate the difference.

"There is a 52% match rate, sir."

"Fifty-two percent," he enunciated to himself quietly, "It's never enough."

Tony straightened up to stare blankly at the mess covering his lab.

Post-it notes dotted the walls, his tables, and even his cars. He didn't need them. In fact he had only ordered them last week thinking perhaps it would ground him, and remind him of the necessity and fruition of such an ambitious dream. But now it slammed into him with a splitting ache, his eyes scrunching up as a blinding pain coursed down his head. It reminded him of how fucking ruined he was.

"Never fucking enough," he muttered.

Fifty two percent means the elements, the material, whatever the fuck he labelled it- it all boiled down to having the same matter which existed for tangible forms, but beyond that, whatever accumulation of atoms formed the mysterious armours, 'flesh', and weapons of the Hoard simply did not exist as an Earthen configuration, and if Tony dared to press his mind into the darkest corners of his intelligence, he would be forced to consider that potentially, the elements he searched so desperately for were beyond his highest form of science.

Beyond science itself and perhaps into the realm of speculation and, he shuddered, **_magic_**. The horror.

Horrible potential. One would believe Tony Stark idolized magic. His own creations all embodied the most human form of magic. Technology so advanced he could craft his suit from the air (seemingly) and power his tower from a self-sufficient source. All ideas that scientists had salivated over, but truly, few had the brains capable of processing such advanced theories.

"JARV," he ground out through gritted teeth, "What does the two-percent signify?"

Another moment of silence while JARVIS considered his readings. "I believe, sir, that the two percent is evidence of a nuclear-bonding between the armours of the Chitauri Hoard, and their 'flesh'."

That means their armour is really an exoskeleton..

Which again meant he was no closer to understanding their technology or their ability to breathe in space.

Tony wanted to cry but he settled for sinking to his knees and gasping for air. Imagining space without his suit.. imagining floating in that awful, endless void..

 _He couldn't breathe._

Grasping at his throat, his vision swam.

"Sir, you are experiencing an anxiety attack. **Code Beta.** Sir, you are experiencing an anxiety attack. **Code Beta.** Sir, you are experiencing an anxiety attack. **Code Beta..."**

 _Code Beta._

Tony's self determined code word broke through the haze, allowing him enough time to stagger to his feet and slump towards his coach. Barely mustering the strength to pull his suddenly lead filled body onto the expensive leather, he never heard had a chance to fight he sleep which wormed its way into his deprived and demented brain.

* * *

 _Burning cinders drifted through the air lazily. Such beautiful hues of orange and magenta glowed behind the thick, black smoke. They danced like peacocks of death._

 _Plumes of the smoke filled the skies and suffocated him, working its way down his throat and filling him with trepidation._

 _Her voice chanted above the carnage, " **Cinis praecepto cadunt acie retro..** "_

 _Screaming metal cut through his dazed thoughts and he raised his head, vision blurred by red, to see a ship leaning to left. It groaned ominously, straining against gravity, but inevitably, it lost. The dull silver wings tipped downwards and the ship fell headlong into a spiralling descent._

 _" **In acie retro faciens iter sonitu.**."_

 _He tried to cry out in pain but the sound lodged in his throat. His entire body ached like he had been beaten for all eternity. He had to press on. Desperation clawed at him._

 _A spindly hand shot towards him and tightened around his throat. He thrashed violently before regaining his senses. Lifting his hand to fire a propulsion, the being was swept away in with a loud bang, landing sickeningly against a stone wall._

 _Everything blurred together as he fought them. There were so many. Everywhere. They swarmed like roaches, never ceasing, never lessening in number despite the culling blows they were dealt. Slate coloured skin, red eyes, and horrible, repulsive green mouths like moss and mold._

 _Somewhere far from his vision the Hulk let out an almighty roar, shaking the earth he lay on with a bellow deeper than he had ever heard._

 _" **Rumpitur sanguine filiorum tuorum implebo tympana.**."_

 _They were losing. Vision hovered above one of their mother-ships surrounded by an unearthly red glow. Another mammoth beast fell from the sky with an almighty crack as lightening touched from the heavens and split it's skull from it's monstrous body._

 _Agony seared from his chest and as he looked down he nearly passed out. Luminous green shards jutted from his reactor like pins in a doll. They leaked a foul odorous discharge and his reactor sparked, sending blinding spots cascading across his vision._

 _He sent another energy charge at an approaching Chitauri goon, before commanding JARVIS to launch a rocket at the mother-ship closest to him._

 _"Sir, your arc reactor does not possess the energy needed to fire the rocket and continue to power your suit."_

 _He forced JARVIS to do it._

 _The air in his lungs left him like a swift punch and he collapsed in the rubble, unable to breathe or scream or think. JARVIS said something but it didn't compute and he felt a blissful numbness encompass his left side. In the back of his head, he registered a stroke._

 _" **Errorem suum pure et crucifigetis..** "_

 _Inhuman shrieks filled the air but it barely registered to him. JARVIS continued to bleat in his ear. All he knew was agony. Unfathomable and unnatural pain._

 _As his eyes slid shut slowly, the last thing he ever saw were the rising forms of those they had so valiantly tried to slaughter. They stood slowly, heads tipping back to join in the unearthly shrieks, bodies convulsing nauseatingly._

 _Darkness filled his vision._

Tony woke with a scream.

* * *

Silence. Then his ragged breath.

Another fucking night terror. It had been so real. So clear. But it was just a dream.

They were usually quite similar. It always featured the Chitauri. Plenty of death. The Avengers, naturally.

And that haunting voice.

It was so familiar that Tony was _sure_ it belonged to a real person he had met before. But for the life of him he couldn't think of who. And that drove him fucking mad. Despite his near perfect memory, whoever possessed that lilting voice escaped his stranglehold grasp. He eventually concluded the voice manifested as a distorted version of a real persons voice. He then banished it from his mind before it sent him raving mad, and falling over his already precarious balance on the edge of sanity.

Tony had defied nature most nights but the fatigue had gone beyond his previously known limits, and once something as mere as a thought had triggered his fears, the need for rest wormed in like a disease and wouldn't let go.

Drenched in sweat Tony had summoned his latest suit models frantically, despite being barely concious. Nine feet tall each, separately colour coded, they smashed through the concrete walls hiding them from any potential intruder. Ironically, when he had woken to tall and menacing figures looming above him, he had once again descended into a panic attack.

Sometimes Tony wanted to die. To kill himself. But he couldn't.

If space held such terrible things, then death.. death would be unimaginable.

He would suffer, and suffer happily as only the truly mad can.

* * *

 **The latin translation from Tony's dream;**

 **"Commandment of ashes, fall in line behind your maker, march to the sound of their cries, fill your beating drums with the blood of your broken children and crucify the pure for their aberration."**

 **Enjoy.**


End file.
